


Where the Light Softens

by LadyThrimbletrimmer



Series: OverWLWatch [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Talking, delightfully gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 09:05:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6949831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyThrimbletrimmer/pseuds/LadyThrimbletrimmer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The soldier and the architect have time to talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Light Softens

**Author's Note:**

> I told you guys I wanted to do more Overwatch stuff!

The airship cruised above an ocean glittering in the late morning sun.

“Arrival in two hours and fifteen minutes” chirped the autopilot. Fareeha Amari made an irritated noise in response to the computer. The announcements were fine, but that aluminum voice grated.

Satya Vaswani did not acknowledge the voice. She sat cross-legged against the wall, eyes firmly shut. 

“Not going to watch the view, Vaswani?”

“No thank you. It disagrees with me.”

“Airsick, are you? I know how that feels.”

“Really.” Symmetra turned to look at the soldier. Pharah leaned against one of the walls, staring out the window. “You of all people get sick on planes.”

“Well, for me it was seasickness,” said Fareeha. “Up until I was about twenty, I could barely look at a boat. That said, you know who hates planes more than anyone?”

“Who?”

“Angela.”

“Really?”

“I swear. The only time she drinks is when she has to get on a plane. Although usually she just takes a pill and knocks herself out.”

“You have seen this?”

“One mission we lost the jet and had to take a commercial flight back to base. It was her, me, and Tracer.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes. It turns out that if Oxton isn’t flying the plane, she is incapable of sitting still. In the end I made Angela share some of her sleeping meds.”

Symmetra chuckled. “Well, I don’t need any of that. I simply have to keep my mind occupied.”

“What do you think about?”

“Many things. Usually I review the papers I intend to write.”

“Have you published anything?”

“Not yet. My contract with Vishkar requires confidentiality. However, there is much I plan to share someday.”

“Sounds like you’re looking forward to it.”

“I am. Hard light is one of the most fascinating inventions of the last century. I want to develop its potential.”

“How so?” Pharah walked over to Symmetra and sat down, facing her.

“Well,” the architect paused. Her instinct was to start delving into nuanced explanations of the technology. That always put a safe barrier between her and anyone trying to get friendly. But for some reason, that prospect was not appealing. 

Satya disliked soldiers on principle. They were a symptom of the disharmonious world that she wished to reconstruct. Yet she had respect for Chief Amari. The woman was discipline incarnate, emanating a sense of purpose and self-assurance that Satya craved.

“Well, hard light is usually only ever hard. It’s got this one thing it has to be, and it either works or it doesn’t. But maybe I could make it a little… softer, maybe? It’s a whole complicated thing.”

Satya was not confident in her ability to ‘read’ people, but Fareeha seemed legitimately interested. A paranoid voice in the back of her mind screeched at the architect to shut up before she embarrassed herself.

“How would that work?” asked Fareeha. The soldier knew that she could barely begin to understand the technology. But she had seen Symmetra dance, glowing with the light of the rising sun. And now it struck her that the crystal-strong construction was a dying ember compared to the radiant passion in the architect’s face.

They spent the rest of the flight talking. Fareeha kept up a steady campaign of questions, and Satya would weave answers of raw poetry.

As the plane landed, Satya’s mechanical arm brushed against the polished metal of Fareeha’s gauntlet, tracing a small pattern with a finger. The soldier flashed the architect a radiant grin as they stepped out into the shining blue afternoon.


End file.
